Archive for September 28th, 2010

September 28th, 2010

"for me, zines are not about creating ‘good literature’ though i do believe they qualify as good…"

for me, zines are not about creating ‘good literature’ though i do believe they qualify as good literature (spellcheck or not). they are about SURVIVAL. they are about breaking isolation, saying the things we are not allowed to say anywhere else, making connections, making friends, dealing with the fucked up shit that happens in our lives. they are not supposed to be about recreating hierarchies and cliques and making up rules for what a good zine should be.

if a zine doesn’t float your boat there is no reason to attack it’s creator. there is no reason to make zines feel like a secret club that only some people are allowed into. for many of us, zines are not just about making art, they are so much more than that. they are a lifeline and sometimes they are the only lifeline available, so elitism in the zine scene is utterly dangerous. is making yourself feel cooler really worth hurting a grrrl so deeply that she may never again take part in the community that could save her life??

so grrrls, please, don’t be disheartened by mean bullshit. i promise you, we aren’t all mean. there are many of us who don’t care if you spell shit wrong and who won’t call you ‘intellectually mediocre’. i encourage all grrrls to make zines, make art, make music and express yourself in any way you can. tell your stories, tell how you feel and reach out to other grrrls. if you encounter hatefulness, brush it off, don’t take it in. i know it’s hard, espcially because what we write in zines is so personal and close to our hearts, but don’t let their hatefulness stop you.



- from Clementine’s excellent post on zine elitism
September 28th, 2010

Two Endless Months

“This is what is meant by a purple twilight. Lamps alight, small round lights, each in place, shedding no radiance, white day lingering on the stone pillars of the great crescent, the park railings distinct, the trees shrouded but looming very large and permanent, the air wide and high and purple, darkness alight and warm. Far, far away beyond the lengths of two endless months is Christmas. This kind of day lived for ever. It stood still. The whole year, funny little distant fussy thing, stood still in this sort of day. You could take it in your hand and look at it. Nobody could touch this.” —Dorothy Richardson, The Tunnel (1919), pp. 255-6.

via modernistwomen